


We Deserve Better

by stephrc79



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry, Lots of Crying, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sadness, This was me, but only vaguely, but still, implied past dub-con, quite a few porny bits actually, working through some stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They come together every night, but there's no love there. Not when it's dark and Bucky lives in the pain he thinks he deserves. No, their love is only reserved for the daytime. And Steve <i>hurts</i> for him.</p><p>So tonight Steve plans to take matters into his own hands. Tonight's the night Steve Rogers shows Bucky Barnes love again.</p><p>~~</p><p><a href="http://www.ohcaptainmycaptain1918.tumblr.com">ohcaptainmycaptain1918</a>: </p><p>Post-WS, established relationship (lives in the tower with Steve; has his own room but tends to sneak into Steve's every night after a nightmare). Recovering!Bucky - 90% Bucky and only 10% Asset at this point. For the most part, Bucky's acting like his usual self these days, except whenever he and Steve sleep together, he constantly wants it to be rough and animalistic. Every time Steve tries to slow it down and make love to him, Bucky overpowers him and begs him not to, and Steve always conceded and lets it continue being hot, but rough fucking. This time, Steve's bound determine to take things slow - no matter how much Bucky tries to change that - and make Bucky see that Bucky's deserving of love again, deserving of being touched with delicate hands and treated reverently<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Deserve Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhCaptainMyCaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhCaptainMyCaptain/gifts).



> I want to send a special thank you to the following people who have both been there for me during the tumblr shit-show that was last weekend, as well those who helped me through what as turned out to be the hardest thing I've ever written. I haven't written porn in almost a year, and _definitely_ never written it on my own. Here's to the following:
> 
> [beautifullyheeled](http://www.beautifullyheeled.tumblr.com): For taking my tumblr away from me and being the champion of my sanity. I love you more than you'll ever know.  
> [ohcaptainmycaptain1918](http://www.ohcaptainmycaptain1918.tumblr.com): For understanding. And prompting me. Or maybe I don't like you for that. _You did this to me._  
> [hums-happily](http://www.hums-happily.tumblr.com): For always being my beta.  
> [shanology](http://www.shanology.tumblr.com): For reaching out to me. You know why that's so important.  
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://www.thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com): For letting me be _your_ beta and getting to read all the awesome before everyone else. SUCK IT, LOSERS!  
> [reclusiveq](http://www.reclusiveq.tumblr.com): For being my Q this past week, and also my other beta. And for that thing you posted last weekend. ilybb  
> [type40consultingdetective](http://www.type40consultingdetective.tumblr.com): For being so sweet, and for saying my bits that I left in chat were hot. I needed that.
> 
> Also, to everyone else out there who was kind to me last weekend and this past week. You mean more to me than you'll ever know.
> 
> ~~~~~
> 
>  
> 
> **If you read the above, then you know I haven't written porn in a year, and never on my own. Please, no criticism in the comments. Normally I'm cool, but just not this time. Thanks, guys!**

The door creaked on its hinges as it was slowly pushed open.

Doors in the tower shouldn’t have been able to creak, but Steve’s did. After that first night, he’d made sure of it.

The distance from door to bed wasn’t a long one — maybe ten feet at most. The space could be traversed in less than the span of a heartbeat, if one were so inclined. Most nights, he was inclined. Apparently, though, tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

Steve listened to light footsteps as they inched across the hardwood floor, and he waited. The sounds of shallow breathing met his ears, and he still waited. He would always wait. This wasn’t his game, after all. He was nothing more than the target. Oddly, it made him think of a bullfight, and instantly, he knew he was the matador.

Bucky was the bull.

It was the depression in the mattress that made Steve finally look over. He’d stayed where he was, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, but that all changed the second Bucky sat down. After all, once he made contact with the bed — however that might have been — he would never make the next move. That was always for Steve.

Bucky sat with his back to him, bare from the waist up, and only boxer briefs to cover the rest. He was slightly hunched over and seemed to be staring at his hands in his lap. His eyes could have been closed, though, Steve didn’t know. He just knew his friend looked tired.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

“No,” was the blunt reply he got in return.

“Want to try sleeping in here?” he asked, just as quiet as before. This question was part of the game. He always asked if Bucky wanted to join him. Bucky wouldn’t do it otherwise.

Sure enough, there was the slightest of nods from his friend — a barely visible movement from this angle, but there all the same. He scooched up as Steve pulled the covers back and slid in underneath. Steve threw the covers over him, and they both rolled over to face each other.

“Bad dream?” Steve slipped his fingers behind Bucky’s ear, tucking a few strands back as he did. Bucky turned slightly into the gesture, but Steve would bet he didn’t know he was doing it. It was tentative and loving, Bucky’s reaction was, and he was never tentative and loving. Wouldn’t be for much longer, if he got his way, whether he knew he was doing it or not.

Little did he know, Steve wouldn’t be letting Bucky get his way tonight. He was done with that part of the game.

Bucky eyes fluttered closed as he continued to turn into the gesture, and Steve ran his fingers gently across his jaw till he could cup the side of his neck. Bucky let out a soft hum, as he replied, “Not really a _bad_ dream. Just a dream... from before. Before this, before the war.” He opened his eyes. “Before you.”

Steve glanced up from where he’d been staring at Bucky’s lips — though he hadn’t realized it — and met his eyes in confusion. “Before me?”

Bucky’s eyes traveled down Steve’s body, despite being covered by blankets, and nodded. “Before you became... this.”

“Back when I was smaller?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wish I still was?”

“Yeah.”

The reply was honest, and Steve couldn’t deny the way it ripped into his heart. If there was anything about the super soldier program that he’d feared, it was always Bucky’s reaction to it. And he hadn’t been wrong. The spite he’d heard in his friend’s voice when he’d asked, ‘Is it permanent?’ was etched into his brain like stone.

“I’d change it for you, if I could,” he replied, just as honest. He’d give anything to be the man Bucky had once fallen in love with.

“You don’t — I don’t...” Bucky shook his head, hard, like he was trying to jar loose whatever had his words stuck together. It didn’t seem to help, as the next sound he made was a frustrated huff.

“That’s not necessary,” was what came out after.

“Still.” Steve slid his hand back just enough so that he could tangle his fingers in the loose strands at Bucky’s nape. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, and he didn’t miss the way his voice shook. This wasn’t part of the game. Bucky always initiated. And he never asked.

And for that reason he should have seen it coming, he really should have. The way, even in the dark, Bucky's vision clouded over, and he wasn't Bucky anymore. He was the Asset.

When lips crashed into his own, he had no idea who those lips belonged to.

In a single heartbeat, he was on his back, his hands pinned above his head, and he keened. He couldn't help it. The whine that escaped as his lover's tongue dragged along the seam of his lips was nothing short of filthy.

And he parted those lips, welcoming the slick slide of tongue against tongue like a prayer. Or maybe like being reborn. No matter how many times he and Bucky came together, it was always brand new. A revelation that was nothing short of staring into the sun.

When he tilted his head back, his throat was immediately assaulted; bruises being left that would fade almost instantly. There had been more than one instance of Bucky spending hours upon hours trying to get those bruises to stick. Steve wondered if tonight would be one of those nights.

Except no. No, he promised himself, he did. It couldn’t happen this way tonight. His lover deserved better.

“Bucky,” he murmured. When he got no response, he tilted his head further and tried again. “Bucky, please. Stop for a second.”

The only response he got was a deep visceral _growl_ , and teeth buried into his shoulder. He heard himself cry out in pain, but he was too preoccupied with the way his body pushed up into Bucky's to pay it any much mind.

But. Then. Oh, right. This wasn't Bucky.

Bucky would have heard him.

“Soldier,” he tried again, with just a hint of the authority his lover had grown so accustomed to over the years. From other people.

But this was Steve. His voice was intrinsic in Bucky's psyche. He didn't need much. “Soldier, _stop_.”

The whimper he heard was barely a whisper on the wind, but those teeth pulled back just the same.

Bucky — _the Asset_ — met his eyes. Steve's hands were still pinned above his head, so to show there were no hard feelings, he rolled his hips up into his lover and smiled. It was small and full of adoration, and not part of their game at all.

“Bucky,” he breathed. “Come back to me, baby.”

The Asset — _his lover, his Bucky_ — watched him. He tilted his head to the side, clearly regarding Steve's request and possibly trying to determine the authority behind it.

“Come back to me, my love.” He leaned up to kiss unresponsive lips. “Where's my Bucky, hm? Where'd my baby go?”

His lover eyed him, guarded as always. Then he leaned in, lips touching to Steve’s like a test. Unsure of what to expect in response. So Steve let him guide until those lips pulled back and he was staring at Steve again.

A loosening of hands, and Steve turned his wrists so he could thread their fingers together. There was still a need for control, and Steve wouldn't deny him that.

Eyes assessed him, only to break contact a moment later, and Steve ducked his head to the side to capture that blue again. When his lover tried to turn his head once more, Steve gripped tighter on his hands, and ordered, “Look at me. Now, soldier.”

“I can't,” came the broken reply. And that... That was Bucky, he knew.

Bucky — _his baby_ — dropped his head to Steve's chest. “I _can't,_ Stevie,” he whispered again behind a curtain of hair that had cascaded around his face. “You're not him, and I can't.”

There went Steve's heart again. He wondered if Bucky could feel it shattering underneath his forehead.

Hopefully not. That pain was for him only. Not to be shared, not even with the other half of his soul.

Instead he took a deep breath and said, “I know I'm not him, baby. And I’m _so_ sorry he’s gone. But this could be better, couldn’t it? At least you don't always gotta worry about me dyin' on you anymore, right?”

 _That_ was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Bucky's head snapped up, and there was a fire in his eyes Steve had never seen before. “Are you fuckin' joking with me, Rogers? I don't gotta worry about you _dyin' on me?_ ”

In one fluid motion, Bucky was up and sitting in Steve's lap, yanking Steve's arms down to pin underneath his back. The position of his arms — elbow-to-wrist under the small of his back —forced him into an arch, pushing his dick straight into Bucky's crotch, and Bucky took advantage of that by grinding his hips down to meet Steve.

“ _Shit,_ ” Steve hissed, and he arched further, not helping the situation. Bucky laughed, vicious and feral.

“You think I don't worry about you anymore, Rogers, huh?” Bucky growled. He began to undulate his hips over Steve — a slow drag that was almost painful by how much it wasn't enough. Never enough. “You think now that you ain't small and sickly no more, I got nothin' to worry about? Is that it?”

Steve wanted to answer — he tried, he did — because wasn't that the thing? Steve was healthy now, and they were together in the _fucking future_ , and —

He let out a choked off moan when Bucky chose that moment to grind down with punishing force. Steve saw stars.

“Baby, _please_.”

“Please _what_ , Stevie?” Bucky continued his ministrations as his breathing picked up. The fire never left his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“ _Bucky_ —”

“I worry about you  _all the time._ ” Bucky leaned forward and shoved his own arms completely under Steve’s back, forcing him up even further. Without thinking, Steve brought his knees up to anchor Bucky in place. “That’s all I do anymore — all I’m good for.” Lips came together in a mess of heat and wet, then broke apart, though no distance was brooked as they breathed into each other. “Whether you’re on a mission, or safe in bed, I worry about you.” Hips moved back and forth, and Steve had to bite down on a whimper. He tilted his head to mouth along Bucky’s jaw and stifle his moans.

“There has never been a time in our lives when I didn’t have somethin' to worry about.” He pulled out his metal hand, and like always — quick as anything Steve ever saw — ripped Steve’s briefs clean off his body. That act actually was part of their game, and Steve started to think it might be high time he stopped wearing underwear to bed at all.

His dick finally free of its constraints, Steve swallowed down a moan of relief. “Oh, thank god,” he whispered.

Or maybe he spoke too soon, because Bucky wasted no time taking him in metal hand, his grip heading towards the far side of painful.

He tried to keep quiet, he really did, but this was — it was too much. Steve cried out through gritted teeth as pleasure and agony tore through him in equal measure.

This too was part of it — always was. Bucky always looked for a reason to push Steve. Push and push until Steve finally pushed back. Took control and fucked Bucky senseless. Made him forget all the things he couldn't remember. Made him forget all the things he could.

But Steve had a plan, goddammit. He wasn't gonna let Bucky drive him over the edge like this, not tonight.

“You like that, sugar?” Bucky asked as he began to stroke slowly up and down, grip only eased a little. Steve wanted to say no — really, he _tried_ — but his traitorous dick was leaking precome all over metal, completely giving him away. Bucky licked his lips at the sight and twisted his wrist _just so_ to give Steve what Bucky assumed he craved.

Steve took advantage of his distracted state to pull his hands free and grab hold of Bucky’s metal wrist. Bucky smiled in anticipation.

“Stop,” Steve ordered, and by the way Bucky stilled, that word clearly wasn't what he was expecting to hear. Confusion colored his eyes as Steve gently unwrapped Bucky's fingers from his dick. “Stop, baby,” he quietly repeated.

Bucky watched his hand as Steve pulled it away before resting it on his thigh. He kept staring at it, even as Steve placed his own hands on Bucky’s hips, to hold him still. He kept staring and Steve waited. Slowly, he dragged his eyes back over to Steve, and they were — well, _pained_ was the only thing Steve could think of.

“Steve?” Bucky finally asked, and Steve’s heart broke just a little more at how small he sounded. “Did I — what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I promise,” Steve answered, and dammit if he managed to keep the sadness out of his voice. He reached up to stroke Bucky’s cheek, once, then pushed himself up onto his elbows. He nodded towards Bucky’s briefs. “Just take off your underwear for me.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Don’t you, um...” He blushed crimson and ducked his head briefly, not used to talking about what they did. “Don’t you want to rip them off too?”

Steve laughed. “No, honey, that’s your thing.” He reached up and snapped the waistband. “Why don’t we try saving these things for a change.”

“Really?” Bucky asked flatly. When Steve nodded, he sighed and rolled off with a grumbled, “Don’t see _why_. S’not like we aren’t loaded or nothin’.”

Steve just laughed again. Wouldn’t dignify that with an actual response.

Once Bucky was out of his underwear — not quite as hard as he’d seemed to be moments ago, but hopefully that would soon be fixed — Steve sat up and pulled him back in, manhandling his baby onto his lap, Bucky’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“What —” Bucky started, but Steve pressed a hand to his lips to quiet him, and held him tight.

“Shh.” Steve moved his fingers so he could brush their lips together. When he leaned back, he found eyes searching his own. “We’re gonna do things different tonight, okay?”

“Different, how?” Bucky asked slowly, voice full of suspicion.

Steve couldn’t blame him, he really couldn’t.

He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and sighed. “I wanna take things slow for a change.”

“We don’t do slow. That’s not what we’re about.”

Steve shrugged as he watched his fingers glide through brown tresses. That was the thing about Bucky’s hair. No one knew how soft it was. “We used to be.”

Metal fingers wrapped around his wrist and he gazed back down. “We used to be a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky said. “Things change.”

“They don’t have to.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I know,” Steve admitted. He pressed a light kiss onto his baby, then spoke against soft lips. “Then at least give me a chance to show you what else this could be.”

Bucky huffed, warm air against Steve’s skin. “What’s wrong with what we have?”

“Nothing, baby, really,” Steve lied. He stole time and another kiss, as he worked out a way around the thing Bucky couldn’t hear. “I just wanna try something new.”

Bucky nipped at Steve’s bottom lip and said, “Fine. But if I don’t like what you got planned, we do things my way.”

That wasn't what Steve wanted, but he couldn't take this too far. So reluctantly he agreed. “All right.”

Steve slid his hand out from Bucky’s grasp so he could press palms to that beautiful face in front of him, and lean in for another kiss. This one was slow and sweet, and Steve thrilled at the way Bucky wasn’t pulling away. No, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s back, and pulled in closer, and Steve could have cried because Bucky _never_ let him do this.

Instead he just sighed, and Bucky took advantage to slip his tongue passed parted lips. He took his taste, but just as Steve had asked, kept it languid and almost chaste. They kissed like that for long, hot minutes, pressed against each other, flesh to blessed flesh.

Steve ran his hands up the expanse of Bucky’s back, feeling hard muscles shift under pliant fingertips. He pulled Bucky in closer to deepen the kiss, heady at the velvety feel of his lover’s tongue against his own. This was how he wanted Bucky. With a slight nip to his lover's bottom lip, he prayed to God he was conveying that.

Bucky whined into his mouth making Steve’s dick jump. Maybe he really was gonna get his way tonight.

Because here was the problem. Bucky was almost wholly himself again, but there was still a small part of him that felt he didn’t deserve anything good. Unfortunately, that small part was encased inside of two-hundred and forty pounds of flesh and muscle.

Bucky didn’t think he deserved Steve.

And when Bucky had mentioned that he wished for a smaller version of his best friend, Steve didn’t exactly believe him. Steve knew it had more to do with wishing they were in the _past_ than wishing Steve were someone else. Bucky would give anything to go back to a time when he felt he deserved to be wrapped up in Steve’s arms.

So while their relationship was _almost_ back to where it had been, this was the one part they couldn’t get past. During the day, everything was normal, and they were just like any other couple. But at night...

First off, Bucky refused to share a room with Steve, even though he came here every night. Second, when he _did_ come, their sex was as rough and as vicious as Bucky could get Steve to be. Bucky didn’t think he deserved slow and simple. He didn’t think he deserved to be made love to.

He didn’t think he deserved to be loved. Tonight, Steve was gonna prove him wrong.

“You with me, baby?” Steve breathed as he turned to mouth along Bucky’s neck. He pressed against Bucky’s shoulders to grind their hips together, and was rewarded with a soft moan in his ear.

 _“Fuck,_ Stevie.” Metal began to palm at the back of his head, and Bucky rocked into him, setting off little firecrackers behind Steve’s eyes. They moved together, bodies in tandem as they slowly inched closer and closer, filling in all the gaps of space between them. Bucky shifted in his lap until both their dicks were perfectly slotted together, then closed that last millimeter of space to press them up between their bellies. There was a slight tickle against Steve’s skin at the precome leaking onto him, and he had no idea if it came from him or Bucky.

He ran his hand slowly along Bucky’s tailbone, up and down, yet gradually making his way to that perfect ass. Each time he got just a little bit closer, Bucky’s breath would hitch, making Steve smile. He let his hand circle one of those cheeks before squeezing the meat of it.

A kiss broken off, and Bucky silently bit into Steve’s shoulder even as he pushed his ass back into Steve’s grip. Never one to miss an opportunity, Steve grabbed on with his other hand and pulled them back flush. Dicks trapped between them, both men let out a quiet moan.

Bucky whimpered into the crook of Steve’s neck before muttering, “Why do we — I mean this is nice, I guess, but we don’t —” Cutting himself off with a frustrated huffed, he turned to meet Steve’s mouth in a hungry kiss. It wasn’t quite as frantic or angry as earlier, but Bucky was still slipping from him.

Steve got his hands on Bucky’s hips to still him and tried to pull away, but Bucky apparently wasn’t having it anymore. He grabbed onto Steve’s face and held him there while he continuously licked into Steve’s mouth, each glide more feverish than the last. Steve couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed.

“Fuck me, Steve,” Bucky ground out between kisses, hips rocking despite Steve’s hold on him. “Fuck me like it might be our last time.”

Without warning, he surged forward, knocking them back on the bed. His ministrations never ceased, and Steve had to lock his grip to keep them from actually knocking into each other.

Bucky must have taken that as acquiescence because immediately his hand was slithering in between them to take hold of Steve. Again, there was no mercy in it, and Steve really did cry out this time, back completely arching off the bed.

“Bucky, _no,_ ” he strained to get out, only for Bucky to turn into his neck again, a choked off cry of his own meeting Steve’s ears.

“Steve, _please.”_

And _god_ , if that didn’t go straight to Steve’s heart — that broken plea to be taken and fucked into oblivion. Tears slipped out of the corners of Steve’s eyes before his vision even had a chance to get blurry. He couldn’t do this anymore. He just _couldn’t_.

_Bucky deserved more than to be treated like an abused plaything._

He latched his arms to Bucky’s sides and proceeded to flip them over. Eyes widened in surprise, but luckily Bucky made no move to stop him. Then Steve grabbed metal and flesh and threw them above his lover’s head, pinning him in place. If he could see himself now, he knew he’d see that same earlier fire in his own eyes.

 _“No,”_ he growled into Bucky, their faces inches apart. Bucky pulled against his hands — frustration and anger in constant battle across his poor features — but Steve held fast. “Stop fighting me, Bucky.”

All that earned him was a sound more guttural than Steve knew Bucky was even capable of. He watched as Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he pushed up into Steve — a taunt for all the things he shouldn’t want right now, but did.

Oh good god, he _wanted._

“Bucky, please stop,” he whispered and bowed his head, right into the hollow of his lover’s throat. “I’m begging you, _please._ ”

“ _Why?_ ” Bucky pleaded, and pushed up into him again. “Why won’t you give me what I want?”

“Because I don’t think you actually want it.”

“Yes, I _do._ ”

Steve lifted his head and gave Bucky a hard stare. “Really? You like the pain?” Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but Steve didn't give him a chance. “You like being treated like a toy? Something to be _used_ and _abused_ and eventually discarded?”

Bucky didn’t answer him right away. Just stared back at Steve, and his face slowly began to crumble.

Once when they were teenagers, Bucky had been going steady with a girl from their school, Mary Jacobs. They’d been going together for a couple of months, when Mary had suddenly broken it off.

Steve remembered heading over to Bucky's place that night for dinner, only to find his friend locked away in his room. When Steve had asked him about it, he found out that Mary had broken it off not long after the two had had sex.

Apparently, when Bucky had asked why she was ending things, she'd responded with, “Come on, Bucky, everyone knows that's what you're good for. You like to show girls a good time. We had a good time. Now it's over.”

Bucky had been heartbroken.

So when Bucky laid there beneath him and whispered, “What else am I good for?” the last of Steve's heart shattered into a million pieces. The tears began to flow after that, unbidden.

“Oh god, _baby,_ ” Steve cried, and buried his face into Bucky’s neck again. He let go of Bucky's hands in favor of wrapping his arms around him. It wasn't _fair._ They'd been through so much in their long lives — fought so hard just to get to where they were now, and yet Bucky still thought himself worthless.

“You don't deserve this,” he murmured brokenly into Bucky's skin. _“We_ don't deserve this.”

Hands rested tentatively against his back. “Steve, you gotta stop this.” God, his voice sounded so empty and hollow. “I've known what I'm about for a long time now.“ He turned and kissed Steve's temple, making Steve's breath hitch. “I'm only good for two things, Stevie, and that's fuckin' you and protectin' you.”

That sobered Steve up real quick.

“What?” he snapped, as his head shot back up to glare at Bucky. “Do you really think that's all you're for?”

“Steve, I got no right being here. You know that.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Oh, really? Is that what I know? Jesus Christ...” He pulled them back up into a sitting position and, despite Bucky's protests, deposited his lover — his _love_ — back into his lap. He gripped Bucky's nape and kissed him hard before he could brook any sort of real argument.

“Now, you listen to me, Bucky Barnes...” Steve said the instant they broke apart. Bucky looked so lost and scared, and goddamnit, that was gonna end _tonight._ “You got no idea how much you matter, do you hear me?”

“But, Steve...” Bucky tried to cut in, his voice cracked around the edges.

“No, you stop talking.” Steve rushed in for another kiss, short but full of desperation. “You are, and always have been, the most important thing in my life. You’re my best friend, my partner, my lover, my six, my _everything_.” Tears slipped from Bucky’s eyes at that — a mirror of Steve’s own face. He wrapped his arm around Bucky and pulled him in as close as possible. Slowly, he pushed down to rock them against each other, and felt that spark of pleasure again. “And you deserve that, baby, _you do._ You deserve to have whatever life you want, and to be _happy_. You deserve to hear me say —”

“Please.” Bucky cut him off, even as he pushed harder into Steve, his breath beginning to shallow out. “Don’t say it, _please_.”

Bucky met Steve’s lips hungrily, all open-mouthed tongue and not anything resembling an actual kiss. Steve reached over to grab the lube he’d stashed under his pillow. He latched onto Bucky’s bottom lip, and worried it between his teeth as he flipped the cap open and, one-handed, squeezed a fair amount of slick into the palm of his hand. He tossed the bottle aside and swirled his fingers around in the mess.

He ran his hand down Bucky’s spine so he could let a slicked-up finger slip over his entrance. A shudder rippled through Bucky and Steve held him closer. He slipped his finger in.

“I love you,” he murmured against his baby’s lips.

“No —”

“Yes.”

“I'm not —”

“Yes you _are._ ”

Bucky let out a broken cry, and Steve slowly began to work him open. He kept his baby right up against him as one finger turned to two, and while their movements were slow, Bucky continued to fall apart in his arms.

“Baby, talk to me.” Steve whispered as Bucky cried and cried, each little noise turning Steve’s shattered heart to sand. He tried to ease up, but arms wrapped around him turned into a vice grip. “Okay, my love, okay.”

“Don’t stop, Stevie,” Bucky sobbed into Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay, shh.” He brushed his lips against Bucky’s temple, tasting sweat and salt. “But you need to tell me if you’re okay. I need the check-in word, baby.”

Bucky shook his head and whined, and Steve felt his stomach drop. Where had he gone wrong? No matter what they’d done in this room in the past, Bucky had _never_ not given him the word. Bucky had never not checked in with him.

He started to pull his fingers out, but before he could get all the way out, Bucky reached around and, with his metal hand, slammed Steve’s fingers back in.

His back arched, and he shouted to the heavens, “ _Brooklyn!_ ”

Heart skipping a beat at the sweet sound of their word, Steve wasted no time burying his lips to Bucky’s exposed throat. He licked a hot stripe from its hollow straight up and into Bucky’s waiting mouth. Kisses fevered and starved, as Bucky continued to press his hand to Steve’s, and Steve worked to open him up. It was bare minutes before he knew his baby was ready.

Bucky whimpered as Steve made to pull his fingers free, and he huffed a laugh against Bucky’s lips. “Don’t  — don’t you want me inside you, sweetheart?” he stuttered against Bucky’s mouth. “God, I — I wanna be in you so bad right now.”

Bucky pressed their foreheads together and nodded.

So, Steve used the lube that was still all over his palm to quickly slick himself up. Before lifting Bucky up, though, he moved to wrap his fingers around his lover. A beautiful moan met his ears, and he smiled wickedly to himself before leaning in to capture that moan on his tongue.

With the taste of satisfaction on his lips, Steve finally shifted Bucky up, so he could align his dick to Bucky's hole. And before Bucky could even _think_ to impale himself — as was the norm with him — Steve held his waist tight and slowly lowered his baby down.

Inch by inch, blue eyes stayed fixated on him as Steve _finally_ pushed his way home — neither man making a sound, not even to breathe. It wasn’t until Bucky was finally seated back into his lap that Steve let free the air trapped inside his lungs.

Unblinking, unmoving, the two just stared at each other for several long, precious minutes. Bucky placed his hands between Steve’s shoulder blades while he in turn traced his fingers up and down his baby’s back, and still, neither of them deigned to chase that need both so desperately wanted.

“Why?” Bucky asked, voice so quiet, if it wasn’t for the pin-drop stillness of the room, Steve doubt he would've heard it.

“Why what, baby?”

“Why do you love —”  Bucky’s breath hitched and he leaned forward to press his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not a thing worth loving, Steve.”

 _Goddammit_ , heart, this fucking had to _stop._

“Oh, baby...” The tears slipped free again, and Steve turned his head to rest it on Bucky’s. “You’re _everything_ worth loving. Hey, c’mere.” He nudged Bucky to sit up and took his face in the palm of his hands, careful of the little bit of slick still left on one of them. He looked over the tear streaks running down both cheeks, the sadness and shame in his baby’s eyes, and proceeded to kiss the wetness away. “You are everything worth loving,” he repeated between kisses. Then he pulled back to catch Bucky’s eye again, and added with as much earnestness and conviction as he had within him, “And now I’m going to make love to you, okay?”

Bucky sniffed once, as all Steve’s good work was lost under fresh tears, before nodding. “Okay,” he whispered.

Steve nodded as well. “Okay.”

There was no need for words after that. Steve moved within Bucky like it was the only thing he was ever made for, and the only thing he ever wanted to do for the rest of their lives. Bucky was so tight, and yet welcomed him so sweetly —  every thrust, a shiver of bliss up his spine.

But the thing was, he barely noticed. The way Bucky gazed at him in silent wonder, he knew none of this was about him tonight. None of his own pleasure mattered. All that mattered was the man in front of him.

He needed to know what it felt like to be loved.

So, Steve kept it slow. Slow like a warm summer’s night, on the edge of the East River, when they would hide out by the docks, and spend hours fooling around and exploring each other’s bodies, inside and out.

And Bucky never took his eyes off of him. The only sound was their quiet, labored breathing as Steve, languid as anything, rocked up into his lover’s body.

It hit Steve then that he hadn’t actually been with Bucky like this _since_ that summer in ‘39. Oh, sure, he and Bucky were together until the end, but that was one of the last times both boys felt no rush of the future coming at them. Before war and Hydra and SHIELD and the _now_ came to claim them.

Heart still refusing to mend itself, Steve leaned in and pressed their lips together, laying a claim of his own.

“I love you,” he murmured, and reached down to take Bucky’s dick in hand. Bucky groaned into his mouth, but didn’t say anything, so Steve repeated himself as he ran his thumb across the tip, smearing it with precome. “I love you.”

“Steve, what —” Bucky cut off with a choked moan as Steve twisted his wrist, dragging his hand from root to tip.

“I love you, Bucky.” Steve drove up into him right as he pressed his thumb to the vein throbbing along the underside of Bucky’s dick, earning him more of those beautiful sounds from his lover. “Tell me you love me too. Please.”

Bucky frowned at him, and Steve internally kicked himself. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have said that.

But then Bucky was tipping them over — gently, this time — before taking over, riding Steve. “You already know the answer to that,” he said, though it was muffled from where he’d buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve wasn’t sure if he should push it. Tonight had already been so much for Bucky, and he was scared of tripping something within his baby that would finally make him run. Or revert back to the Winter Soldier. Neither idea was optimal.

But he also knew Bucky loved him. Because even though earlier he’d made it sound like, when it came to protecting Steve, he had no choice in the matter, Steve knew that wasn’t true. He knew Bucky _wanted_ to be there. He wanted to protect Steve, and feel like he had the right to do so. He wanted to love Steve, but saw no point when he felt he shouldn’t be loved in return.

Steve knew these things like truth. And it was high time Bucky be allowed to come clean.

So, Steve hedged his bets.

“Will you say it anyways?” he asked, tentative. Bucky answered by driving down hard on his dick, making Steve see stars for the second time that night.

“Why?”

“Because you should be allowed to.”

Bucky stilled over him, and lifted his head to eye Steve. The tears were dried up, and the sadness was gone, but all of that had been replaced by fear. A wariness in his eyes that Bucky had come to wear like an old shirt, ever since he'd come back.

“What if I don't want to?” he asked, a mix of blunt honesty and carefulness, like a blade that had been dulled around the edges from too much use.

A blade that still cut into Steve, just as clean. He and Misery we're going to be old friends after tonight.

“Then you don't have to,” Steve answered resolutely with a sigh. “You know you always have a choice.”

Bucky watched him, most likely waiting to see if Steve would continue — maybe add a caveat to that. Steve just leaned up and kissed him, hopefully conveying that Bucky never had to give anything he didn't want to.

When he realized nothing else was coming, Bucky began again, slowly rocking back and forth. Steve locked one arm around his waist and tangled the fingers of his other in the mess Bucky's hair had become, and didn't say a word. Just held his lover close while they moved in tandem.

The air in the room had shifted into something Steve didn't recognize. Words had been said — by both sides — that were either entirely new or hadn't been said inside of this century. Whatever happened after tonight, there was no going back to who they were within even the past twenty-four hours.

And by the way Bucky, yet again, buried his face into Steve's neck, it seemed both men knew it.

“Steve, touch me,” Bucky whimpered.

“Kiss me,” Steve countered, as panic began to well up inside him, because he had no idea if he was gonna lose Bucky after tonight. He didn’t know if he’d just pushed too far and screwed things up between them, and he needed to feel Bucky’s lips on his, if it was the last thing he ever got to do.

As Bucky wordlessly turned his head to capture Steve’s mouth, Steve reached down between them to take hold of Bucky’s dick and start jacking him off — each movement timed perfectly with every undulation of Bucky’s hips.

Both men gradually began to speed up, kisses turning desperate and frantic. They breathed into each other, and while they were silent save for the fevered moans neither could hide, Steve’s mind was screaming. He couldn’t lose Bucky, not over this. He thought that finally telling Bucky what Steve thought he already knew would be the break Bucky needed to start to feel better about himself. He never thought it would backfire.

He ran his hand up and down the length of the man he loved, and he fought _hard_ to hold the tears back this time. He couldn’t let Bucky see him cry. Not anymore. He’d guilt-tripped the man enough tonight.

Heat started to coil, low in his belly, and he knew he was close. He could tell by Bucky’s labored breathing, and the way his movements became almost frenetic, that he was as well, so he didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask. Just held his baby — his lover, his friend, his everything... Jesus Christ, _he couldn’t lose him_ — as they both chased down that inevitable white light.

Bucky came first with a high keen, and Steve felt the warmth of him as he spilled over Steve’s hand and across their stomachs. Steve followed almost immediately after, arching off the bed as pleasure and fire tore through him. He pushed into Bucky just as he twisted his hand, riding them both out, seeing them both through to the other side.

As they collapsed back onto the bed, they lay there quietly, Bucky’s face pillowed against Steve’s chest, as they lived in that post-orgasmic high for just a few moments longer. Steve tried his damndest to hold onto his own, but fear began to slither its way back in, turning the remnants of his heart to darkness. He didn’t want this to be over.

Bucky was still shaking, so Steve slowly rubbed his hands up and down his back, soothing him through it all. It was after several minutes though, that Steve realized he wasn’t shaking from his release; he was crying again.

Maybe Misery was going to be an old friend to both of them after tonight.

“What’s the matter, ba—” Steve stuttered over himself, unsure if he had the right to call him ‘baby’ anymore. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

Bucky sighed miserably against his chest. This was it. He knew it.

“I... of course I do, you idiot.” Bucky mumbled.

That... What?

Steve asked as much.

“ _God,_ Stevie.” Bucky sniffled and lifted his head to gaze at Steve. “I love you so damn much. _Christ._ ” He barked out a laugh, full of self-deprecation, even as Steve's heart took its first tentative steps towards mending itself. “I love you so much, and I’m so scared of you, and I don’t deserve to have you —”

“Goddammit, Bucky!” Steve snapped, his elation instantly bleeding into anger. Bucky started before staring back at him in wide-eyed shock. “Stop saying you don’t deserve me! You more than _anyone_ I know deserves happiness. You've been through enough for more than a _few_ lifetimes. How can you not think you're owed, huh?”

“Were you even _paying_ attention to all the atrocities I've caused?” Bucky sat up and glared at Steve incredulously.

“We really gonna have this conversation again?” Steve shot back. When Bucky did nothing but hold his gaze — always so fucking stubborn — Steve finally cracked. He shoved Bucky back, off his lap, and sat up so they were both kneeling, facing each other.

“You wanna do this? Fine,” Steve started. “But you're gonna listen to me. And I mean _actually_ listen to me this time.”

Bucky sneered at him. “Fire away, Cap.”

Steve huffed in frustration, but that didn't stop him from grabbing Bucky's chin and making sure he was paying attention. “You seem to think you're special somehow. Don't know if it's the serum makin' you stupid, or if you've just spent too much time hangin' round me.”

“Well —”

“Shut up. I'm not talkin' about _me_ being stupid. I'm talkin' about your absolutely _ass-backwards_ need to put me on some goddamned pedestal.” Bucky huffed at that, but didn't say anything. They both knew Steve was right. He kept going. “Regardless, this stupid of yours's got you thinkin' you should be better than human. More capable than one, or somethin'. But I got news for you. That's _all that you are.”_

“I know that,” Bucky spit at him.

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “It's amazing how much you don't. You’re only human, Buck, and ain't no human alive could go through what you went through and not crack. Not one. So stop thinkin' you shoulda been able to win the fight of what happened to you. Start bein' proud of the fact that you're fightin' for everythin' after.”

Steve was breathing hard after his little speech, and it wasn't lost on him how much his accent had come back being all riled up like this. Bucky did always bring out the Brooklyn in him.

Bucky, though, he hadn't said anything, not really. He'd just gazed at back, and Steve watched as an array of emotions had played across his face — everything from hurt to doubt to fear.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't so much quiet as it was unsure. “What if I can't get all the way back to bein' him?” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “No one said you had to. You don't have to be any version of him you don't want.” He took a chance and stole a kiss. “You can be whoever you wanna be, baby.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at him. “Didn't Sam say that to you once? Pretty sure you told me Sam said that to you once.”

“Yeah, well...” Steve ducked his head and laughed. “Guy's pretty smart.” Then his head shot up and he pointed an accusing finger at Bucky. “Don't you tell him I said that!”

Bucky nodded, a tiny grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “Gonna go text him right now.”

“Jesus, you are _such_ an ass—”

Steve didn't get to finish the sentiment. Not when he suddenly found himself with an armful of Bucky. Their mouths slotted perfectly together, and they bled seventy years lost into each other.

“I love you, Stevie,” Bucky breathed against his lips.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve replied, his heart really and truly on the mend. With each kiss, another little piece puzzled itself back together. Maybe they were really going to be okay.

Except for one more thing.

“No more pain, Buck.” He mouthed along Bucky's neck to whisper in his ear. “No more suffering. If it's not fun, we're not doing it.”

“Yeah, all right,” Bucky agreed. Then he leaned back and smiled at Steve, a wicked little glint in his eyes. “But in all fairness, some of it _was_ fun.”

Steve smiled back, just as wicked. “Some of it was.”

They spent the rest of the night — and well into the next day — figuring out exactly what.


End file.
